


Training in Progress

by Hellsnextboss



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 03:56:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5442452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hellsnextboss/pseuds/Hellsnextboss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Learning to endure the harsh climate is one of many trials a recruit in Camp Dragonhead must overcome. Fortunately you are not one of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Training in Progress

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skysedge](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skysedge/gifts).



> I haven't slept in a while, and someone wanted me to write more drabbles involving Haurchefant & the Warrior of Light. It's a little nothing-y, but oh well!

With most quests, it begins with a teleport to the most conveniently located Aetheryte. Today, this means Camp Dragonhead. It's a stark contrast; the heat of the Thanalan sun being replaced in mere seconds by the biting colds of Coerthas. You shiver involuntarily as you step away from the Aetheryte and regain your bearings.

You are not here to see him, just passing through this land, on a quest for another. But as always, the urge to drop by to see him is strong, even more so when you can hear his voice. It is distant, but it is loud and enthusiastic, and unmistakably his. To follow it, you need only step forward, to climb to the wall looking out towards the Gates of Judgement, and you need only to look to the foot of the wall to find him, surrounded by recruits.

There is one thing the silver fuller and the recruits all have in common; it is their attire, but to call it thus seems unfitting. Rather, it is their lack of attire that is most noticeable. Stood proudly before them, in his small clothes, Haurchefant encourages them all to brave the cold, and assures them that this endurance training is vital. 

From the wall, you watch, the light of Camp Dragonhead's Aetheryte at your back, down at the silver haired Elezen, mostly naked in the snow. Black dots amidst the sea of white suggested that his audience was wider than you and those suffering under his training; on the horizon, karakul were lurking, biding their time, waiting. Probably. Being headbutted by one when fully clad in armour was painful. You imagine it would be more painful if you were in your small clothes, like your overly enthusiastic friend below.

It's difficult to say whether it is sweat or melted snow that glistens on his skin, as he gives a speech you can't quite make our, or might be too distracted to pay attention to. A necessary speech, you assume, given that the cold is as likely to drain ones strength as it is their will power. Dramatic gestures put his muscles to good work, the definition easily noticed under the present circumstances. For a while, you stare, watching him. He'd probably look good in a painting, if he were able to stay still for long enough for one to be completed. 

You stare, but he is busy, and you know you should be moving on. You cannot remain here, even if you want to, for the realm is forever in need of saving, and few others are willing to rise to the task as you. As if this thought was one uttered aloud, the silver fuller suddenly looks up at the wall, and becomes aware of your presence. Before you can react, he is waving to you, and loudly announcing your presence to the others.

"My friend, so good of you to join us!" he calls, and before you can reply, he turns his attention to his recruits once more. "Needless to say, the fabled warrior of light is no stranger to the cold! Come!" Once more, his gaze is on you, and your proposed fate is imminent. "Cast off your armour and we shall brave the cold together!"

Your initial reaction is somewhere between surprise and horror, though in truth, it is probably a suggestion you should have come to expect come this point. The second is panic. Seeing you flail about, torn between a reply or flight, Haurchefant bursts out laughing. As you turn and run from sight to escape water torture, taking the long way around to Whitebrim suddenly seems like a thoroughly appealing plan.


End file.
